


The Darkness in My Veins

by xeniakoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeniakoy/pseuds/xeniakoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Listen. It calls to your senses, calls to your very soul. The bit of darkness that hides within you, as it hides within us all. As it once hid within three sisters fair, dark and lovely. Come, listen to their twisted story...Let the chronicles of the Blacks take you back, fifty years back, when it all began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theMuser](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=theMuser).



**Part One**

 

With a shadowy past and a bleak future on the horizon, the Black Family lived a life that was cursed. They were cursed, yes, whether with magic or just with tangled strings of fate, I do not know. But it consumed their very souls... the darkness did, till nothing was left but an empty mockery of life.

They weren't completely dead though, not yet completely woebegone. Their life was not yet as wretched as the life of those that had completely succumbed to the darkness. A painfully human superficiality had set itself deep within their every movement, action and thought. It was perhaps this that allowed a few of them to survive, later on. The unyielding pride and arrogance that refused to let them become the filth that another old family, descended from Salazar Slytherin himself, had.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black they called themselves. The lack of humility transparent to the point of annoyance and just as prominent in it's people as in the name. Thinking their history a relic and the purity of their blood sacred, they thought themselves not only noble but akin to royalty itself.

That isn't to say, however, that power was just an illusion for them. Oh no, the power ran in their blood as thick as magic did. The easy air of command and casual elegance was quick to set those even distantly related to the family apart from those around them. Their cross-breeding habits and incestuous inclinations hadn't affected their magic as much as it had other pure-blood wizarding families. They still consisted of powerful, and power-hungry, witches and wizards... with the only side-effect to their tendencies being a growing insanity. Yet even the rumours of madness weren't enough to keep priers away... They were forever worshiped by the less powerful, fawned over by those wanting to be part of the elite.

Then how, the question is, does a family this powerful fall? Perhaps in the due course of this story, that question will be answered. I am here with a conviction you see, a desire to put an untold story into words -- the story of the three daughters of Cygnus and Druella Black: Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa Black.

I'm loathe to admit but I myself do not know how the end comes to be. All I know is that the story has latched onto me and grates on my very mind. I have no choice but to see it unfold from my fingers and I assure you that you too, will be just as transfixed.

And so now, it begins...

 

xxx

 

_September 11th, 1929 – Black Country House_

  _Black growled. His youngest brother... a disgrace. And only now, after the others had been safely admitted to school, had his sire thought it fit to tell them of the latest great blow to the otherwise pristine reputation of their family. As head of the family, he would have to take action. Keeping the boy was out of the question. He would have to be sent away to live with his own kind. Questions would be asked, he knew, and whispers would follow them for an eternity. The coldest of Blacks yes, the one that sent his own brother away. But what choice did they have_ _\--_ _no... they did not want another choice, no other alternative to cover up the mishap. Let the world see the purity of the Blacks, who valued it above all else. Marius Black would be sent away._

The midwife mopped her brow on her apron and looked at the writhing woman below her anxiously. _These Blacks,_ she thought, _always the most painful of births. And the most complicated..._

Irma Black let out a guttural scream and had the midwife and her helpers in the room not been witches, they surely would have crossed themselves to ward against possession.

"You there!" the midwife suddenly snapped, pointing to a girl standing near the bed, "Heat the water once again and get a fresh cloth for the lady."

As the girl rushed to do her bidding, the midwife examined Lady Irma of the Blacks and chewed on her dry lip thoughtfully. The child inside the woman's womb was nowhere in sight. Despite the water having broken hours ago, the poor woman was still in labour, with the child showing no signs of wanting to start his birthing.

A simple magic detection charm told her the cause of this but sadly, did not tell her the solution. It was her educated belief that Irma had suffered from some shock earlier that day which had propelled her into labour before she was ready. Panicking upon realizing what had happened; her magic had created a shield for the child which currently barricaded it inside her womb. She could only guess, given the haste of the situation, whether the child inside was still able to breathe.

Accidental magic was starting to become a common thing among pure-blood families of late and Irma belonged to one of them -- the Crabbes. The midwife shifted on her feet slightly as she nursed a slightly prejudiced thought. The Crabbes were nowhere near as powerful as the Blacks, which should make it easier for her to break through the ward. Breaking the shield was her only choice. No potion or the casting of any spell was safe for the woman or her child. Breaking a ward required less energy though, as recent developments in that area of study allowed the use of the ward's own magic to break it. But, should she take long or should the ward prove to be too hard to break, its reactive magic could seriously harm the woman and probably kill her child.

_If it isn't dead already,_ she thought exasperatedly. It was this that settled it for her. If there was already a chance that the child was fighting for life at the moment then she had no choice but to act.

Pulling her wand out, she closed her eyes in concentration and whispered, "Merlin, help me," before beginning a complex wand movement to break the ward.

Ten minutes into the spell, no change was apparent and Irma Black was, if anything, more agitated than before. The midwife continued the silent incantation while the two girls helping her looked on anxiously. A dire fate awaited them as well as the midwife should anything unfortunate happen to the lady or her child. The Blacks were quite an unforgiving lot.

Fifteen minutes had passed. And then twenty. The midwife was drenched in sweat now, her left hand not risking her concentration to mop at her brow again.

Finally, she gave low shout of triumph -- which quickly turned to horror as Irma started screaming in the earnest. The girls, a smart bunch, had already begun speaking in the woman's ear to start pushing. The ward had been broken and now the birthing had truly begun.

Some twenty more minutes and a mild charm later, a small, howling and bloodstained baby rested in the midwife's arms. Irma had promptly collapsed with exhaustion as soon as the cord linking the mother and the baby had been severed. The girls came towards her with their arms outstretched and she gladly handed over the child for them to clean.

After the baby had been wrapped in clean towels and Irma had been made comfortable, the midwife straightened her appearance and made her way outside with the baby. She had expected to find an anxious party waiting for her. They had been in there for nearly ten hours. But she sighed as she remembered her role in the birthing of the other two children, Walburga and Alphard, she believed their names were. There had been no one to receive her even at the birth of the first-born or the other child.

With another sigh and an almost pitying glance at the baby in her arms, she made her way downstairs to the parlour where hopefully, she would be able to find another human being.

She looked back at Walburga with a stern look and said, "Now my dear, little children as yourself should be outside, playing. Not confusing up orders for this poor old lady. I wasn't told to leave the baby anywhere. I would gladly leave him with your mother, had she not gone to sleep! Now please, has your father said anything about when he would be returning?" She began her descent of the stairs and was midway when she was stopped by the sweet voice of a young girl that caused a chill to run down her spine. She turned to see a five year old little girl, who she presumed was Walburga, standing atop the stairs, hands on her hips.

"Our father isn't here. You can leave the baby with one of the house-elves," spoke the fair, dark-haired girl with a confidence that was very odd indeed in a child. The lace frock, little buckled boots and her immaculate appearance in general put the midwife on edge as well. After her initial shock wore off, she chided herself. Had she honestly just been considering handing over the child of a Black to house-elves at the insistence of a toddler?

The girl stood there emotionlessly and said, "You're going to get into trouble for not doing like I said."

With that she turned away and disappeared into one of the rooms, leaving the midwife perplexed. Just then, the doors to the hall were thrown open as the striking Pollux Black came striding into the hall with another man by his side. They conversed in low, stressed voices and took no notice of her or the baby as they made their up the stairs, past her.

"Please sir, wait," the midwife called.

The men stopped and turned, looking annoyed at the interruption. Pollux asked, "What is it, woman?"

"I... Well, erm, this is your child right here. He was born just moments ago. It was quite a difficult delivery actually; your wife's just-"

"I'd thought the message for the child to be left with an elf had been relayed to you." Pollux spoke with a soft voice, seemingly polite, but with a cold bite that was evident with every word.

"By relayed, if you mean I was to take the word of a child of five-" she began furiously, only to be cut off again.

"You are here for services to the house of Black. You are being paid handsomely for it. Therefore, I would say it is your duty to not only listen but also act upon the direct orders of _any_ Black."

She opened her mouth to argue again but was stopped with the wave of an impatient hand before she could even begin.

"Enough of this idle chatter. Leave the child with an elf. And then get yourself and your women out of my house this instant."

With that, the two men walked off, leaving the midwife appalled and more than a little angry. Muttering furiously to herself, she stalked off to the room they had delivered the child in. To her surprise, Irma Black was sitting up, drinking a strengthening potion with the help of one of the girls. When she walked in with the baby, the woman gave a soft cry and held her arms out for the child. _Finally,_ thought the midwife as she handed over the baby to her. Irma cradled it to her chest, smiling down at it. Her smile was strained though and when she looked up at the midwife, she looked almost apologetic.

"You probably had to wander a bit to find someone to take him. And probably heard a few unkind words as well."

The midwife looked up, surprised. Irma had never shown her any kind of acknowledgement, let alone any kindness after the birthing of her other two children. Knowing this, the midwife stammered as she answered, "W-well, I... not really... I mean, I suppose your husband was busy..."

Irma gave a dry chuckle and said, "My husband? Oh dear, you must have had quite a hard time then. Don't worry yourself though... Behind the doors to this expensive manor lies a completely different world. No outsider can ever understand it..." she spoke with a far-off look in her eyes and then added softly, "Even I haven't been able to, after so many years..."

The midwife looked at the lady of the manor with an apprehensive look. She was no great looker -- her strong jaw and plaintive hair, especially when compared to her daughter's, made her so. The eyes were beautiful enough though, a soft blue, marred only by the pain the midwife and her girls had just been given a glimpse into.

The midwife almost reached out a comforting hand to the mother, then stopped herself. No, these were still the rich, arrogant purebloods and they guarded their problems as jealously as they did their secrets. It would not do well for her to overstep the boundaries that were so carefully set in current society.

She cleared her throat slightly and Irma looked up, mask and cold facade back in place.

"Ah, yes. Your payment. A house-elf is waiting by the door with it."

The girls looked unnerved by the sudden change in her attitude but the old midwife had seen the world and then some, and was relieved that she hadn't tried to pry any further before. She merely nodded and gave a slight bow and the girls, after curtseying, followed her out.

Before she left though, even her old heart could not save her from turning back and looking at the mother and child once more. Then, most certainly overstepping the boundaries, she asked, "What will you name him?"

 Irma looked up at her, expressionless. "He is to be called Cygnus Black the Third, after his paternal grandfather."

_Of course_ , thought the midwife, inclining her head slightly and turning away. Of course they were the type of family to flaunt their heritage with titles such as 'the Third'. She fleetingly wondered whether the woman had had any choice in the name of her son.

Sighing, she motioned the girls onward with a nod where they had stopped for her. As she received her payments and walked the long winding path that was strewn with autumn leaves, she could not help but shiver a little from the atmosphere around the mansion.

Far from celebrating the birth of a son, it seemed as though the tall shrivelling trees and the powerful old mansion mourned something terrible instead.

 

xxx

 

_October 31st, 1940 - Hogwarts_

  _She sat imperiously, a small smile on her chiseled face, talking quietly with the other students around her. He came and sat down across from her, willing her to look up at him and meet his eyes. Feeling the burning gaze, she looked up, smile gone and eyes cold. His eyes showed warning that what he'd been dreading had happened. Leaning forward slightly, she looked around the table, both sides, a smile back on her face as she greeted those who caught her eye. He waited impatiently for her inspection. She finally leaned back, looked at him and with a slight shrug of her shoulders, dismissed his worries. He grit his teeth and looked up at the bewitched, dark ceiling that showed the sky outside, stomach slightly clenching. He was missing... their youngest brother._

 "Well go on then, Black. Not scared, are you?"

 The loud, raucous laughter echoed off the tall twisted trees and the creatures within their depths stirred, the otherwise quiet whisper of their movements swelling.

 "S-sit tight till the morning then...we'll come for you at sunrise," the speaker was a thickset boy of fourteen, his face hooded except for slits through which his eyes could be seen. The eyes were darting around in fear, feet already moving back from the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

 "Or whatever's left of you at least," sniggered his braver friend, who was holding his wand pointing straight at another boy, smaller and younger than two of them.

 "May the creatures have no mercy on you," he spat and Cygnus watched the two retreat, hands forming fists in anger and fear.

 It was a cold night and the shadows and mist hung low to the ground, swirling around his legs. Turning away from the tempting view of the castle, Cygnus stood facing the entrance of the silent forest. He just had to last the night. If he did, he would never be bothered again, never be made a scapegoat for his dear brother and sister.

 The absolute blame for his predicament rested with them of course. Why else would two fourth-years kidnap him from his dormitory and then place a spell on him that made it impossible for him to return before dawn? Their attempts to exact revenge by endangering him were futile though, as they were probably finding out at this moment. Walburga would never lift her painted fingers to save him. Alphard might have but under her influence, he was rendered just as useless as well.

 Cygnus looked around the forest with distaste. He needed a place to hide. Some small alcove where he could pass the night. He then spotted an old tree whose branches sagged to the ground, easy enough for him to climb. Checking around quickly for any unfriendly prowlers, Cygnus settled in between two branches. It wasn't the least bit comfortable but it felt safer than being on ground, unprotected.

 Mouth set into a hard line and nails digging into his palms, Cygnus sat casting a wary gaze around him every now and then, ears perking at every little sound. The more he listened, the more the earlier silence of the forest seemed non-existent. Branches creaked above him, twigs snapped ominously and tiny feet scampered here and there, their owners invisible in the mist. The darkness was oppressing and even for Cygnus, who'd seen similar darkness in the corners of the old mansion set in the countryside, this darkness seemed dangerous and wild.

 Sometime along the journey of the bright moon through the night sky, Cygnus fell into a doze, vigilance slipping...

 He then awoke with a start, he could not tell how much time after, heart thumping wildly. He looked around frantically, searching for what had awoken him. Suddenly, he grew still, fear clawing at in the pits of his stomach. There was a loud hiss circling the tree where he still sat, growing louder by the second. He shivered as he saw the mist, which looked as though it was churning, cloaking the forest and making it impossible to see in any direction.

 As the hissing grew louder still, Cygnus jumped off the tree, falling on his knees. Without a care to his bleeding kneecaps and scraped hands, he started to run with not a clue of the direction, keen to get away from insistent hissing and the rustle of dead leaves that now surrounded it.

 He did not know how far he ran, occasionally stumbling and hurting himself. He looked back constantly over his shoulder but the hiss followed unceasingly.

 "Arghhhhh..."

 A cry escaped his lips as he fell onto his front, tripping over a root. Shutting his eyes tight for the bite of the snake he knew was sure to kill him, Cygnus waited, panting and praying to no one... only loathing his family and of how he would never, in a million years, be missed.

 Then, a different hiss. Almost... human? A chuckle came next and then some more of the human hissing. Then, the menacing hiss that had followed him before suddenly came to a stop. Taking a deep breath, Cygnus slowly raised his head off of the cold ground and was surprised to find... a boy. A boy that looked no older than fourteen or fifteen, with dark hair and a face with sunken cheeks. He looked as handsome as any Black.

 Cygnus scrambled to his feet and looked around him. There was no trace of any snake and even the mist seemed to have died down a little. Looking back at his saviour, Cygnus openly stared, before saying disbelievingly, "You... saved my life."

 The boy gave a nod and said, "This forest is no place for a first-year, Cygnus Black... Especially on Hallows Eve..." His words were contradicted by his gaze though, which flitted about the misty forest with an almost fond look.

 "You're a parselmouth. And you know my name."

 "I am," said the boy, a tad gravely. "As for your name, you are quite famous and I happen to be, ah... acquainted with your charming sister, Walburga."

 An angry flush crept upon Cygnus' face as he thought of his sister, but his voice was calm when he spoke next.

 "Why are you here? In the forest, I mean."

 "This forest is a favourite haunt of mine, you could say. I come here often... it helps me think," he said with a smirk.

 "The snake... What did you say to it?"

 "I asked her why she was following you," he said and Cygnus could hear the laughter behind his words, “she said it was rare for as beautiful a boy as you to come to her lair, especially tonight. She could hardly pass you up."

 Cygnus flushed at the boy's words and asked, "Then why did she?"

 "Only because I asked her to."

 Although he would have liked to ask why the boy did so, he didn't. Something told him he wouldn't get a straight answer anyway. Instead he began, "I still have to stay here, until-"

 "Dawn. I know. I also know the names of those who have put the spell on you. It's been rather enjoyable, watching the whole affair."

 Another smirk. Cygnus was liking his saviour less and less as he caught onto the obvious attempt to bait him.

 "What do you want in return? For saving me and for the names."

 "You're a smart one, Cygnus, quick to catch on. I require only one thing in return. Your word."

 "My word for what?"

 "That one day, when I ask you to honour this debt, you will," He spoke calmly, eyes fixated on Cygnus' blue ones.

 Needless to say, Cygnus was perplexed. From what he'd started dreaming up in the span of a few seconds, what the boy had actually asked for was a far cry. There was no denying that the condition was odd though and Cygnus wondered his motives. Still, he reasoned, he owed the boy whatever he wanted and there was no choice for him but to say yes, motive or not.

 "Alright," Cygnus said stiffly, holding out his hand for the other boy to shake

 Tom reached out and shook the boy’s hand, a gentle throb of magic running between their fingers. It wasn't anywhere near an Unbreakable or an Oath, but it was a magical acknowledgement. Cygnus Black and Tom Riddle had struck a deal.

 Tom gave another smirk before releasing his hand and saying, "I'm Tom Riddle, by the way."

Cygnus merely nodded...he’d heard of him even if nobody really knew him, except that he was an orphan, a Muggleborn or more likely a half-blood. He was a third year Slytherin, but he already had some kind of influence in the house of snakes. It was of no consequence to Cygnus, however, as from now on, Tom Riddle would always be a mystery to him and a burden.

 "Enjoy your stay in the forest then," Riddle said, letting go of his hand, "I suppose you'll be seeing me sometime in the future... Be careful not to wander off the path. Once you are able to leave, continue walking north-west and you’ll find yourself on the outskirts of the forest near the lake."

 Cygnus nodded again and then, with a quick wave to him, Riddle disappeared into the shadows, leaving him alone once again.

 

 

 


	2. Through the Eyes of the Lion

_September 8th, 1942_

 

Autumn had arrived early this year. Even if it was only the beginning of September, many leaves had already fallen and the wintry weather forced students to cast warming spells even more frequently than usual. For Minerva McGonagall, however, it made things all the more exciting. Soon the mountains around the school would become icy and there would be frost on the ground, which in Hogwarts always meant the beginning of the Quidditch season. Minerva smiled to herself as she thought about numerous new tactics that she was itching to try out, yet studies had to come first.

It was therefore that she was currently feverishly revising the first chapter of 'Advanced Potion Brewing'. Minerva was actually fairly good at Potions. Regardless of the potion they had to brew, hers would always have the exact smell, color and texture as described in the book. It wasn't that she had affinity for potions; on the contrary, her success laid indisputably in hard work and prior preparation. It was for this sole reason that it seemed extremely unfair to her when professors had some other criteria when it came to grading. It was as if her efforts were never really appreciated, as if it all came down to image or prejudice and not objectivity… Still Minerva McGonagall would not be discouraged; if there was anything she believed in then it was the courage to stand up for oneself and prove others wrong.

The lesson had finally started and Minerva listened as Slughorn introduced them to their upcoming NEWTs. The rest of the Gryffindors listened with rapt attention while Slytherins seemed to be more relaxed. To her amazement Riddle was also present even though he had come to Hogwarts a year later and was only in his fifth year. At the same time, everybody acknowledged that Riddle was a genius, so perhaps it wasn't all that strange that he had been allowed to take advanced classes.

"I thought I'd challenge you all today," Slughorn announced, his eyes twinkling almost as madly as Professor Dumbledore's. "If you have already skimmed through your copies of 'Advanced Potion Brewing' then you know that we ought to start with the Draught of Living Death."

There were some affirmative nods and murmurs among the students.

"Can anyone tell me what the effects of this potion are?" Slughorn continued, looking expectedly around him.

Minerva's hand shot up.

"The Draught of Living Death is an extremely powerful sleeping draught; it sends the drinker into a death-like slumber."

"Correct, as always. Take five well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss McGonagall."

The rest of the Gryffindors smiled enthusiastically at Minerva, while the girl herself stole another quick glance at Riddle; he seemed completely relaxed, a bit bored even, as though the class wasn't challenging at all.

"Now, can anyone tell me which potion can reverse the effects of the Draught of Living Death?" Minerva knew the answer to this one as well, so she promptly lifted her hand again, momentarily forgetting about Riddle.

"Yes?" Slughorn prompted. "Wiggenweld Potion, Sir."

"Exactly," Slughorn boomed happily, "And this is the potion that you will be brewing today."

Slughorn continued talking about the potions and briefly explained the key points that should be kept in mind while brewing it. There were also some rewards involved, as usual, but Minerva couldn't bring herself to be too enthusiastic. She had started to develop a foreboding feeling that perhaps it wouldn't going to be such a great lesson after all, especially when she was paired up with Riddle.

Minerva couldn't quite place why she disliked him so much. Of course, he was mostly the reason why Slytherin scored better than Gryffindor, but it was still more than just house rivalry… After all, Alphard Black was the Slytherin Quidditch captain and while she disliked him as well, it still wasn't the same kind of dislike she felt for Riddle. Or was she just being childish? Yet on the other hand, it seemed simply unfair that Riddle was at the top of everything without even trying, while she had to work hard – was it really that much to ask to appreciate her hard work?

"Hello Minerva." Riddle's velvety voice brought Minerva once again out of her reverie.

Minerva merely replied him with a polite nod, while tracing the right page in her textbook. She refused to have anything more to do with Riddle than she was forced to under the circumstances.

"We're missing several ingredients; I have to go and fetch them," Minerva commented absently, "If I had known that we were going to brew a different potion, I'd have had everything ready." 

"Oh, but we have everything," Riddle intervened.

Minerva stared at him momentarily forgetting the frostiness… _Surely, he couldn't have known…but how else..._

"Think of it as one of Quidditch tactics," Riddle elaborated. "When you want the opposite team to think you've spotted the snitch, you dive, while in reality you just want to mislead them."

"I don't see how it has anything to do with Potions, Riddle." Minerva replied with a renewed frostiness.

"Simple, Professor Slughorn let everyone to believe the obvious, while planning a completely different lesson. In this way he will see who is able to think on their feet without any preparation. It's a test that he has set up to sort out more capable students." Riddle smiled at her.

He was tall, handsome, with pale skin, jet black hair, and dark eyes. He was also an extremely gifted wizard and a newly appointed Slytherin prefect. Half of the witches in the school had a crush on him, not that he cared, and as much as Minerva would rather be denying it, he looked more handsome than she ever remembered. This fact did by no means prevent the girl from glaring at him.

"You don't seem to be surprised," Minerva supplied, trying not to sound accusatory. "Were you aware that the professor would come up with something like this?"

"No, I wasn't aware, but knowing Professor Slughorn I suspected that he would come up with something," he replied, still smiling. "And by suspecting you mean tricking the professor into telling you more information regarding the lessons than he should have."

"Why, Minerva, you sound almost as if you were accusing me of cheating whereas all I'm trying to do is to help," Riddle's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Why are you being like that, by the way? Have I offended you?"

Now there was also a hurt note in his voice and Minerva knew that in her impulsiveness she had crossed the line. Yes, having perfect results was important for her; she had her own reasons why, but how could have Tom Riddle known it? It wasn't his fault. He truly was smart and he also studied a lot. Moreover, she had seen herself how Riddle tutored a whole group of Slytherins. Several students owed their success to him.

"I'm sorry, Riddle—I mean Tom," she stammered, "I overreacted…I…I just really wanted to brew Draught of Living Death instead of Wiggenweld."

"Is that it?" Riddle questioned. His tone, she noted, became somewhat friendlier. "I could help. I could ask the Professor arrange something, I'm sure he will be glad that students show such enthusiasm…"

"I'd rather focus on the current potion for now, if you don't mind," Minerva cut in rather crossly.

"Of course," Riddle conceded, leaving her alone at once.

They continued to work in silence. Minerva tried to concentrate solely on her potion, yet try as she might, she simply didn't seem to be making any progress. She suddenly felt a gentle wave of panic engulf her. The fact that she had prepared in advance was only disturbing her now as she kept thinking about the steps that were necessary for the other potion.

"Do you need help?" Riddle inquired after a while. Minerva dully noted that he was already done with most of the preparations; Chizpurfle fangs were already powdered and a little glass jar with Flobberworm mucus was at the ready. This fact only served to make the girl even angrier.

"No, thank you," she snapped.

"Well, in that case could you please stew the Mandrake?" Riddle asked her, apparently not taking any offence at her unfriendly tone. With a start, Minerva realized that they had been paired up for a reason; the potion was pretty difficult, there were many ingredients to prepare and one person would never have time to get it ready…but she was completely useless…without the beforehand preparation she wasn't sure in which order the ingredients had to be supplied and at which temperature the potion had to be brewed—and worst of all, there was simply no time to start reading up on all the additional qualities that the ingredients would acquire in given combination….

"Minerva, what's wrong?" Minerva's breath seemed to be caught up as she suddenly found herself very close to Riddle. The boy had leaned forward, his eyes full of genuine concern.

"Nothing…I…it's just that…well, I haven't read about all the properties of the Horklump juice…it's not written here, so I'm not sure in which order we should add it. If I remember correctly it can go to gaseous state if the temperature is increased abruptly and then it's useless…should that be the case we would need to start all over again…."

For some reason, she simply couldn't stop her rant and her face started heating up in embarrassment. Why would this boy's proximity have such an impact on her? She didn't even like him; he was arrogant, stuck-up, conceited…

"Minerva, look, you tend to overthink everything. You thought we were going to brew the Draught of the Living Death. Well, take a look at the most important ingredient used in that potion: it's the Asphodel root, correct?" Minerva nodded absently, feeling slightly reassured.

"Now, what makes that potion dangerous is actually a Sophophorous Bean, which is an extremely powerful sedative – now in Wiggenweld Potion we need to achieve the contrary effects, therefore we first take a primary reactant; the very same Asphodel root, but we will add ingredients that have strong healing properties instead: Shredded dittany, Wiggentree bark, Unicorn horn and stewed Mandrake. All the side ingredients such as Honeywater, Chizpurfle fangs, Flobberworm mucus and the others only act as reactants to either speed up or slow down the brewing process when necessary. As a result we will have a potion with the same key ingredient with a different purpose."

He was right; it was easy once you understood that the whole reaction was still connected to the one and only key ingredient. Minerva stared at Riddle who simply smiled in return. She knew that she ought to thank him, but instead her Gryffindor pride won over and she resumed working, giving Riddle only a quick nod now that she understood how to continue.

"It still doesn't explain how you knew that we were going to brew a different potion," Minerva blurted out, unable to stop herself, "and regardless of how you knew about it, it's still unfair because it immediately puts the rest of us at a disadvantage..."

"Which, according to you is cheating," Riddle finished for her.

"Well, yes," Minerva said, somehow feeling embarrassed but forcing herself to meet his eyes.

He didn't look abashed or guilty; on the contrary, he seemed to be _enjoying himself_?

"And it never occurred to you that I might have been preparing for this lesson just as much as you have or even more so?" he asked absently, probably not even expecting her to answer. Minerva was unable to reply at this point and lowered her gaze.

Tom Riddle must have done the same because what happened next caught her completely off-guard.

"You're holding the knife in the wrong way," he said softly. "Here, let me show you."

Minerva's breath seemed to stop as Riddle took her hand in his. The unexpected physical contact sent shivers down her spine. It felt pleasant, Riddle's presence was intoxicating and he had most entrancing voice as he whispered the instructions in her ear like that. She felt she could have simply drown in those mysterious dark eyes….

"FINE! Do it yourself then!" she bellowed, forcefully distancing herself. It was about the worst decision she could have made. Somehow she had managed to slip and although Riddle managed to catch her on pure instinct before she landed head-first in the cauldron, the knife that she – or Riddle? – had been holding slipped out of her hand and the next thing she heard was a shriek of pain from a fellow student.

The knife must have bounced off of something and hit someone. Slughorn rushed forward to examine the damage. There was a great deal of confusion and to her utter horror, Doris, her fellow Gryffindor was holding her palm on her left cheek, blood dripping from in between her fingers. Luckily the wound was not serious and was quickly healed, but it didn't change the fact that it was her terribly immature behaviour that had been the cause of everything. And worst of all, there was no justification for her actions. The perfect beginning of the year was now completely ruined. Minerva couldn't even recall the last time she had felt so utterly ashamed of herself.

So overwhelming was Minerva's embarrassment and dismay, she never saw Alphard Black slightly shaking his head in disbelief.

 

xxx

_February 12th, 1943_

 

_"Minerva, would you like to do the honors?" Ignatius asked her._

_"Of course," Minerva replied, "Now listen up, everyone! Playing against Slytherin is different than playing against Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw is relying too much on individual players whilst Slytherin employs the tactic of separation. I've been observing their match against Hufflepuff and the tactics they used against them were exactly the same as they used against us. Slytherins are excellent strategists; they divide us and then they score. First, they take out our beaters by convincingly occupying them elsewhere and then they block our chasers while their chasers score. The reason why they're always managing to do so simultaneously before the opposite team can react is because they have learned how to work as a team—and this is what we lack. Now, I've been thinking, we need some kind of system of signs, so that we could warn each other…"_

_Minerva was about to start explaining about the secret signs that she had been working on, when everyone's attention was suddenly caught by rushing footsteps of Esther Price._

_"Minerva, you…you have to see this," she panted, "I didn't know whom to call…it's on the wall…"_

_The whole team suddenly understood that something was wrong. Luckily, Ignatius took over the training while Minerva rushed to the castle._

_This was when it had all begun._

The months went by and Hogwarts seemed to have fallen into a dull regime of fear and terror. The students were now being escorted to their classes, nobody laughed or joked in the halls anymore and the curfew rule seemed to have acquired a whole new level.

_As if the depressing news about Grindelwald's terror wasn't enough_ , Minerva thought heavily, casting the newspaper aside.

"If it makes you feel better, you don't seem to be the only one who's not happy about Quidditch being cancelled," Ignatius spoke up.

"I know, you too."

"Well, yes, although I wasn't speaking about myself."

"Eh?"

"Look at Black," Ignatius said, inclining his head towards the Slytherin table.

"Which one of them?" Minerva asked somewhat tartly.

"Snake captain."

Minerva turned around. Indeed, Alphard Black was wearing the same kind of expression that his dear sister usually wore; as if there was something smelly under his nose. It was strange because he was the one usually laughing and joking around – whether just pretending to be as easygoing or not, but always smiling. Not now though. Now it seemed that the roles had been reversed and it was Walburga who seemed happy.

Alphard lifted his gaze and Minerva quickly turned away, not wanting to be caught staring.

"You know why she's so happy, don't you? " Esther asked, also staring at the Slytherin table.

Esther was also Minerva's friend and a fellow Gryffindor, very much like Ignatius. It was because of that that she had rushed to fetch Minerva as soon as she discovered the Heir's threat on the wall and the truth was that Minerva felt very touched at the thought that her friend had decided to call her instead of a professor. It really showed the strength of their friendship.

"Don't start again," Minerva pleaded, not wanting Esther to recall that night. Those discussions were giving her a headache.They weren't of any use. They had been through all of it about a million times already.

"You didn't see her," Esther retorted, "that smile on her face…it was…it was evil…" Esther shuddered as she thought about that night.

"Esther," Minerva tried, "Walburga Black is not the Heir of Slytherin."

"No, I believe the correct term would be "the Heiress", considering her gender." Esther returned coldly, not willing to let it go.

"I know she's not nice," Minerva started, but immediately corrected herself as Esther and Ignatius both snorted at her understatement. "Alright, we all know that she's downright horrid, but how could she be the Heiress of Slytherin? Think what you're talking about."

"Maybe Estie's right though," Ignatius intervened, even though he sounded skeptical himself, "I'm not saying that it's her, but it may be one of the Blacks. They are the most ancient Pureblood family out there and some believe that they descend indeed from Salazar Slytherin himself."

"You have a point…" Minerva said pensively, thinking it over.

"The question is how we are going to catch the culprit? We can split up. I'll tail Alphard, you tail the hag and Ignatius the youngest - what's his name?" Esther suggested, looking around at them for support.

"Perhaps it's really not Walburga, but trust me she must know something. Or maybe others do. She was ecstatic when she saw that writing on the wall. You know how scary she can be…well…" Esther's voice was now almost a whisper. "That snobbish bored look that she usually has, it was suddenly gone, but it was replaced with a fanatical glow…it..wasn't a pretty sight," she finished somewhat lamely.

"Yes, I know, but Esther, it might have been just because she truly believes in…in her own superiority and the same goes for the rest of them."

Minerva had wanted to say 'superiority of the Pure-bloods', but stopped herself at the last moment. The topic tended to sadden Ester, being a Muggle-born she had suffered various insults during all her Hogwarts years and now she was also among the ones who were being targeted by the Heir, whoever he was.

"I mean, according to the legend the heir of Slytherin must purge the school of those who are unworthy, which technically means…well, _murder_ …there is no way that either of them is capable…you know...of...of that," Minerva pressed on.

She looked back at Esther and Ignatius, neither of whom wanted either confirm or contradict her statement. Minerva had a feeling that the reason behind the silence was simply the fact that they disagreed, but didn't want to argue. Minerva sighed and went absently to her breakfast—only to accidentally spit a mouthful of coffee on her lap.

"Merlin's beard, I have to go! I have to escort the second years to Herbology." Minerva quickly got up and hurried over to the second years, who had all been informed that they were not to go anywhere without one of the prefects.

Minerva felt truly sorry for them; this Slytherin monster business was ruining their most important impressions about Hogwarts and as much as she would have wanted to console them and tell them that Hogwarts wasn't all that _dark_ at all, it simply didn't seem to be true in this environment. With a heavy heart she finished her escorting duty and was about to go to Transfiguration when something suddenly caught her attention.

There was someone just around the corner. A student. Alone. Without a prefect or a teacher to accompany him or her. Such disregard for the rules was simply outrageous. And if the Slytherin monster was about to attack just now? No, she'd have a word with that student! She quickened her pace, full of fury...

"Stay right there!" she shouted, finally close enough.

"Actually, it's you who should stay, Miss McGonagall. We need to talk."

 

 

xxx

 

"Black?"

"Yes, I believe that is indeed my last name." Alphard agreed, his smile widening.

Gryffindors were so funny to observe. They were hardly ever capable of concealing their emotions and McGonagall wasn't any different, her facial expressions morphing from fury to utter surprise mixed with fear.

"You know, I've never had a chance to compliment you on your progress with the team. I must confess, you do seem to have talent and Gryffindor might've even have stood a chance this year if it wasn't for these unfortunate circumstances." He sighed.

The girl still gaped at him, her green eyes wide and her lips slightly parted, and he had a feeling that she had barely registered his words. Thankfully, she pulled herself together after a moment.

"Students are not allowed to walk alone these days, unless there's a permission form signed by an authority figure. I assume you understand the necessity of these measures? Do you happen to have permission?" she demanded.

Alphard tried his best to pull off a pensive look before going back to his relaxed manner, "I don't think I do," he answered, "but let us not be bothered by this."

"Excuse me? Rules apply to everyone, even prefects. Now, I suggest you follow me, so that I could sign you over to your sister or Professor Slughorn. As Head Girl and Slytherin Head of the House respectively, they are the only ones who are authorized to deal with those Slytherin students who are apparently unable to follow the rules."

That was too much. He couldn't take it anymore; he burst out laughing.

"Seriously… can you imagine this meeting any more awkward with my dear sister and old Sluggy around?"

"He's not…"

But she had probably started to object acting purely on reflex for she stopped abruptly a moment later, as if having remembered whom she was speaking with.

"Enough. There's not much time," Alphard said, all traces of humour suddenly gone.

This time he actually managed to frighten the girl into backing away about half a pace and tightening her grip around her wand. _Damn it_ , he should have been more careful; such apparent mood swings tended to frighten those who weren't accustomed to the Blacks. He needed to amend the situation now, so he changed his pose, making sure not to appear in any way aggressive, his hands away from his wand. Then he flashed her an encouraging smile.

"I'm sorry…It's just that…I doubt that you'd really want to have my sister here and honestly, we might never have such an opportunity again... which is why I need to tell you this: _Look out for yourself and don't go prying where it's uncalled for_."

That certainly got her attention.

"W-what?" she managed to croak out.

"You heard me and if you're smart, you will take my advice, that's all. Now if you'll excuse me."

Alphard knew that it would be the only moment for him to leave before McGonagall would shake off her stupor and start pestering him with countless questions. It was safe to leave her like that, for she would be heading back to the castle anyway. Speaking of which, he had to be careful not to be seen entering the castle more or less at the same time as she would. The walls of this castle had eyes and ears everywhere. Alphard cast Disillusionment charm on himself and started walking carefully towards the castle, choosing the longest way that he knew of. It was only logical as McGonagall would no doubt choose the shortest way as she still needed to get to class. On his way back he made sure to cover his tracks and think of a convenient excuse should someone ask about his whereabouts. It was therefore a bit of a shock that when he finally reached his dorm and removed the Disillusionment charm, he found himself face to face with his brother Cygnus who had obviously been expecting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot takes an abrupt turn. It all seems so innocent through the eyes of a lion, doesn't it? Well, don't be fooled.   
> Since I'm already leaving notes, I'll take the opportunity to thank theMuser for all the support and leave the disclaimer: all recognizable characters belong rightfully to JKR.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is meant to be a chronicle type of a story of the Blacks.  
> There are simply many unanswered questions that I am trying to find the answer to.


End file.
